


Let the Rain Come

by BeesKnees



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-30
Updated: 2011-11-30
Packaged: 2017-10-26 17:17:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/285871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeesKnees/pseuds/BeesKnees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Regulus and James, post-Quidditch game.</p><p>Written for kink-bingo 2010; wet and messy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let the Rain Come

James didn't even wait to get back to the locker rooms. Regulus had no idea how someone hadn't seen them. Out of nowhere, James had hooked his fingers into the back of Regulus' sopping Quidditch robes and had hauled him backwards, nearly tripping him in the process.

Normally, Regulus would have argued. He would have protested, because this was far too obvious – they were both expected somewhere shortly. But, at the moment, he was exhausted. He was worn down. Every inch of him was soaked and freezing. He was also liberally covered in mud – sometime during the second half of the game he had taken a rather sloppy dive and, without warning, he had slid off the end of his broom, landing on the pitch. He could taste mud every time he spoke now.

James didn't seem to care. James never cared, however. He was also willing to take the risks that Regulus didn't want to. He didn't bother to grin or make any teasing remark; he simply pushed Regulus up against the side of the Quidditch shed, devouring his mouth instantly. Regulus groaned before he could stop himself, the sound spilling out of him. It was barely audible over the sound of the rain hitting the ground, thunderous and loud.

James' tongue pushed into his mouth, demanding and possessive, entwining with his. He pushed closer and closer until Regulus' lips felt numb. Regulus reached up to grab thick handfuls of James' hair, which is plastered to his head, making it look darker than normal. This was perhaps the most tame Regulus had ever seen it. It was slick underneath his fingertips. The wet fabric of their robes muted everything, made Regulus' skin feel too heavy.

When James finally pulled away, Regulus huffed unevenly against his mouth. The corners of James' mouth were streaked in the mud that covered Regulus.

“You looked ridiculous when you fell,” James said, his tone cocky. He grinned, arrogantly, apparently unaware of how ridiculous he looked as well.

His hands were slipped down, underneath the robes to the jumper that Regulus was wearing. Regulus could feel it peel away from his skin as James' chilled hands met his skin. His right hand pushed up until it found his already hardened nipple. James' gaze was intent on him as he began to rub his thumb over it small circles. Regulus pulled in a shuddering breath.

“You try catching a Snitch in this slop,” Regulus answered with a scowl, wishing that his voice was more even. He glanced away then, back toward where the pitch was. “We shouldn't,” Regulus protested, his thoughts beginning to turn back to normal. “Not now.” He was always too caught up, wound too tightly after a game – and James knew that. James' fingers always seemed to find him after every Quidditch game, every practice, knowing that he wouldn't be willing to say no then.

“No one's going to notice if you're a little more damp when you go back,” James insisted, biting at the corner of his mouth to reclaim his attention. At the same time, his hips were grinding demandingly forward.

Regulus let out a strangled noise of surprise, but looked back at James. He readjusted his hold on his hair, practically jerking his head to the side before thrusting his hips forward in return, not about to be completely dominated by James. His cock was already swelling in the confines of his trousers. The pressure of his wet Quidditch pants was too much – it was almost painful really, but created a delightful sense of friction every time he thrust forward against James' erection.

James made a sound that was almost like a growl and jerked his hands out from underneath Regulus' jumper. He reached down, grabbing at his hips, and pinned them roughly up against the shed. He pressed in closer, one of his feet sliding in between Regulus' as he began to move forward with a reckless abandon.

“I'll never be able to get your uniform off of you like this, you do realize,” James said in a low voice, the words practically whispered into Regulus' ear. “Sticking to you like this, it would take forever to get it off and on again.”

Regulus couldn't help but make some sound of protest, but there was nothing he could. James' entire body was undulating against him, driving him utterly insane. He could feel the heat growing tighter inside of him and, after a moment, he leaned as far as he could, so that he could drag his tongue along the side of James' face, gathering up the raindrops that were streaking there. He pressed his mouth in closer, sucking the rain off the arch of his cheekbone before sliding back to find the sensitive flesh of his earlobe. The skin was cold and pliant beneath his mouth; he wrapped his lips around it and then began to tease it with his teeth, enjoying every single muffled sound he was pulling out of James.

James' hands slipped away from his hips and back then, grabbing tightly at his arse through his robes and trousers. That touch was blunted, but no less effective. Regulus moaned into James' ear, beginning to rut against the other, able to feel his feet sliding in the mud beneath them as he struggled to get as close to James as possible.

“Fuck,” James groaned. His teeth sank into his own lower lip, his head tilting back slightly. His fingers dug into Regulus' robes, his knuckles going white before his body suddenly jerked and he went still. Regulus could do little but follow shortly afterwards; he whimpered before coming on the inside of his pants, white flaring in front of his eyes. His toes curled on the inside of his boots, his tongue darting out to taste his own lips again.

Regulus let out a heavy breath and practically sagged back against the shed, suddenly unable to hold up his own weight properly.

“I hate playing Quidditch in the rain,” he half-mumbled.


End file.
